


Vegas Baby

by magnetgirl



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain Marvel (Marvel), Green Arrow (Comics), Justice League of America (Comics), Ms. Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-18
Updated: 2009-08-18
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/magnetgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Carol Danvers dated Oliver Queen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vegas Baby

**Author's Note:**

> My personal headcanon holds that Tony is Carol's best friend though she realizes she is not his. Meanwhile Ollie has never really gotten over Dinah. 
> 
> Carol and Ollie have been dating for maybe six weeks. They have a strong physical relationship and just starting to break down emotional walls. 
> 
> The Carol & Ollie fics take place during Dark Reign; Carol is undercover and not working with the Avengers.

Two hours is more than enough time to get from L.A. to Las Vegas the way the crow flies. At top speed she can do it in fifteen minutes.

Vegas is a good metaphor for her. Similie. Analogy. Whatever it is, it's a good one. Bright. Seedy. Flashy. Trashy. Overdone. Sinful. Entertaining. Driven. Angry. Cheap. Drunk. Shallow. Self-centered.

Well-meaning.

She's an original. Well, she means to be.

Self-destructive.

She said 'I love you' once. She was twenty-three. He died. Only not really. Really he just _pretended_ to be dead for fifteen years. Never mind she blamed herself. Never mind she refused to let anyone in that close ever again. Never mind.

The only people who think she might be dead are the people who want her dead. That's the point of hiding. That's why he can't use her name. That's why she lets him call her his bunny. 

She's never thought bunnies are cute. Especially Playboy Bunnies. Not that that has anything to do with anything.

Sometimes she looks in the mirror and she doesn't know how she became this person. And now she's acting like a girl. Worse. She's acting like a girlfriend.

She's never cared if people like her. Sure she cares that _people_ \-- collective plural -- like her. But not individual people. Persons.

Except Tony.

She asked him once. Why _don't your girlfriends ever like me, Tony?_

_Because they come and go. And you don't._ Tony always knows the right thing to say. 

Fifteen years is a long time. But sometimes fifteen minutes is longer.

She doesn't bring anything with her, not even a toothbrush. The hotel will have one. Or wherever. Whatever. Isn't that the point of Vegas? It provides whatever you need. As long as you are there. And then you leave it behind.

See? Excellent metaphor.

She doesn't talk, she knocks him down, clothes melting away to something she saw on a billboard flying in. It's a neat trick, she could have her own act. _America's Got Talent._ Even neater when it melts to nothing. She knows why people -- collective plural -- 'like' her. She's aggressive, she's fun, she's _talented_. And she doesn't 'talk'. Or act like a girl. Girlfriend.

She acts like a Bunny.

Hours later, when she thinks maybe he's asleep, she asks one question. "Did you love her?"

He knows, but asks anyway. "Who?"

"Dinah."

Sometimes fifteen seconds is longest.

"Yeah."

She closes her eyes, her head on his chest, her body tucked against his, and sleeps until sunrise.


End file.
